Gaming Weirdness: Thoughts On Glitches
I’ve been confronted recently with a lot of great games. Coming hand in hand with these, however, have been what people in the gaming community insist on referring to as “glitches.” If you were to head over to IGN right now, you would see two front page articles about these “glitches,” one about Skyrim and one about Skyward Sword, both of which have abnormalities that are potentially game breaking.
I’m feeling like playing devil’s advocate today, so I’m going to take some time to deconstruct (in the most basic way) what is wrong with referring to these things as “glitches,” and how looking at them differently can actually (hopefully) start an interesting conversation about that nature of gaming.
First things first: the word glitch is just an easy excuse for what amounts to a mistake on the game studios part, though even that definition is somewhat reductive. The thing is, these “glitches” are only perceived by the user as they relate to some sort of imagined game experience that does not in fact exist. There is no such thing as a PS3 Skryim in which framerate is consistent once the save file surpasses 6MB.
That is not a glitch, it is simply the way that Skyrim plays. That is Skyrim. It is what we payed $60 for and what was consciously presented to us by Bethesda. So, instead of excusing it away, let’s look at it at face value. This particular anomaly drastically affects the ludonarrative of the game (meaning the experience that the player controls. A game like Skyrim or GTA is almost entirely ludonarrative, whereas say Uncharted is all narrative).
The story does not on its surface change, but your hand is bizarrely forced in the way you play it. Here are the facts: when your character has been played for roughly 60 hours, the game begins to slow down rapidly, with skipping animations, texture pop, and severely restrictive framerate issues. This dissonance is particularly jarring because of how fully developed the province of Skyrim is, as it gives the impression of not just a game but indeed an entire world slowing down, falling apart, coming undone at its seams.
By 60 hours into the game, your character will most likely be heavily embroiled in the main plot of the game, having transformed from a backstory-free (but presumably mundane) prisoner into the apparent savior of the world. You will also have done a lot of stuff, the most minor of which contribute to the size of your save file (the agreed upon culprit). Things such as leaving doors open, moving things around on tables, killing animals, etc.
The combined effect of these two things (that being the hero-story and the stuff) is a large shift in the actual playable story and “message” of Skyrim. The game becomes not about saving the world, but it becomes about a character who has experienced so much so quickly, had so much responsibility thrust upon him, that he loses his (or her) ability to perform simple tasks and even comprehend their own world around them.
From this perspective, a texture popping in is not a mistake in the code, but rather your character’s mental and physical exhaustion altering their perception. Notice that the game has a defined calendar and time system that is strictly adhered to. Day will always become night, etc. Consider how much stuff your avatar is able to accomplish in a single day (travelling across the map multiple times, raiding several dungeons, killing a hundred people, stealing thousands of dollars, meeting kings) and how “unrealistic” that is.
Now consider that all of those things have actually happened to your character, and in that timeframe. Do not make excuses for the game, because that is the situation that is openly presented to you. People lauded games like Metal Gear Solid and Eternal Darkness when they meta-ized their gameplay by either imitating your console crashing or, say, forcing you to switch controller ports to defeat a boss.
Hit the jump for much more!
What if these “glitches” in Skyrim are in fact a meta-commentary on the inherent implausibility of your avatar’s situation? Psychologically, the story actually becomes instantly more fascinating. Continuing to play the game, especially, transforms from a heroic triumph to an exercise in punishing the psyche of a character the depth of whom’s cheekbones you spent hours obsessing over.
There is also the example of Skyward Sword, which contains a “glitch” which disrupts the written narrative of the game. Because it’s not a ludonarrative issue, I find it less interesting, but worth looking at nonetheless. There is apparently a way in which, by completing an aspect of a dungeon before another, you can effectively lock Link out of a room that is necessary to continue the game.
The only option is to restart, to begin again. After my discussion of Skyrim, I’m sure you see where I’m going with this. It helps, actually, that this comes very late in the game, after you’ve put tens of hours into it. It viciously subverts the established narrative of Zelda titles, and indeed most games, by making it about an insurmountable futility in the face of evil. No matter what Link does, his chances of saving Zelda in that particular instantiation are zero. He has failed, irrevocably, and consequently so have you as a player.
The entire nature of gaming is, of course, to present the player a situation in which they can both win or lose, the outcome presumably determined by the “skill” of their actions. Considering this, and considering the glitch, suddenly Skyward Sword is the most unique AAA title ever created. Infinitely more interesting than in its “glitch free” form. Especially if you choose to continuing playing the game, though with the established goal of the game removed the question of whether you are even still “playing” comes into question.
Go back to Skyloft, to any town you’ve already visited. Life still continues there, you can still buy heart potions, repair your shield, and deliver gratitude crystals for powerups. But to what end? Whereas before those shopkeeps seemed to be in on the not-so-hidden secret that they needed to help you in your quest because you were the player-controlled agent in this world, they now take on an almost sinister air of obsessives who expect something from you that is frustratingly impossible.
Their utility in the world has been taken away, and yet their actions don’t modify. What do they know that you don’t? Why isn’t anyone providing you with a means to continue? What the hell is going on here?! It is in these “glitches” that the incredibly complex differences between video games and any other art form is exposed, for better or for worse. So enjoy them, and think about them. Don’t worry, they’ll be fixed, and taken away forever by a patch at some point. But for now, they’re here. That particular world is here.
- Whole Milk
December 7th, 2011 at 2:47 pm
This is fucking beautiful. Dude, can I borrow some brain?
December 7th, 2011 at 3:26 pm
your audience consists of ethnic men who can’t read.
please Dumb it down.
December 7th, 2011 at 3:32 pm
This is a definitely an interesting interpretation of glitches, but I have to disagree with you to some extent. I doubt that the “glitching” of Skyrim in PS3 is actually “meta-commentary” on the absurdity of the game itself. First and foremost, were it actually intended, I do not think that Bethesda would be working to fix the problem.
With that aside, the interpretation that you are proposing is aesthetically pleasing; to be immersed in the game with such depth that you experience the psychological states of your character would elevate video games to an even higher art than they are at now. However, I think that such immersion is unrealistic, at least in this case. Choppy game-play is as frustrating as it comes, and rather than being a punishment for your character, as you suggestion, it becomes a punishment for the player him or herself.
If you want to play glitched games, feel free. Hell knows that I got tremendous joy out of Pokemon’s Missing No. when I was a kid. But all in all, I would say that glitches do not contribute to your immersion in the reality of the game, but instead alienate you from the story and remind you that, after all, its just a game.
December 7th, 2011 at 3:49 pm
Ethnicities be reading at an 8th Grade Level
December 7th, 2011 at 4:35 pm
@Matt
I think we’re actually on the same page. Sorta. I was not implying that Nintendo or Bethesda included these things intentionally at all. But that is beside the point. There is nothing more disruptive to criticism and academic thinking than being hung up on authorial (or in this case designer) intent.
To wonder whether things were “meant” by the people behind these experiences is moot. The fact is that this is the product we were presented, for better or worse. I know they’re technically mistakes, but that is a meaningless fact.
I’m just pointing out that, much like people spend years and years of effort decoding or sparring over what a painting or a book or a song really “means”, the same can be (and should be) done for gaming. I find these “glitches” are a particularly interesting and fruitful topic of discussion in that field.
December 7th, 2011 at 6:21 pm
Well put. I don’t think video games have achieved the level of meaning which the rest of the arts have right now, but they are well on their way. Article was a good read though
December 7th, 2011 at 7:51 pm
It’s a fun academic exercise dude, and I had fun. However, the glitching isn’t intentional or a means of playing as proscribed by Bethesday. I would define glitch as something unforeseen. Even different than shipping with a crappy frame rate.
I appreciate the lack of authorial intent, but you aren’t interpreting the glitching outside of intent. You say it’s a guy or girl’s difficulty viewing the world. But you know this isn’t true. The fallacy of authorial intent is used in tandem with either a psychoanalytical or cultural or post-colonial or feminist reading. So though what lens are you corroborating this? Is the glitch a manifestation by the programmers? Do you know what I mean?
It’s also worth noting that different mediums demand different rigors for interpreting them. There are different mechanisms used in academically critiquing a film versus a graphic novel versus a book. So while there is certainly overlap, there are points where the scholarships depart. In other words, I don’t think glitches should be subsumed into an analysis.
This really was a dope article though, and it achieved it’s result. Some awesome conversation, frreal.
December 7th, 2011 at 8:14 pm
NERD ALERT
activate nebulizers!
December 8th, 2011 at 4:30 pm
To continue the conversation I suppose I would like to ask: then should we limit our critical discourse and how those discourses are actualized? I ask this in relation to using the authorial fallacy in relation to a Marxist interpretation, psychoanalytic interpretation, et cetera.
If so, would that not fall into the problem of a unified theory- intentional-structure to the text. Except in this case, it would be in lieu of the author having a paticular intent, we are giving the text an intentional status (i.e. The text has a psychoanalytic disposition to be interpreted). What this has to do with video games then would be that through giving the limits of interpretation via medium, we are again falling play to the intentionality of the text. If there really is “no outside text” then each medium performs the same activity of providing an interplay of signification that realize themselves in multiple ways.
Also, I think it would be interesting to analyzing the phenomena of glitching, as simply that- a phenomena that disrupts the apparent verisimilitude but without resorting to ascribing it to another person’s failure of producing an object that produces the “appropriate” phenomena.
December 8th, 2011 at 5:01 pm
Robin, first off you’re clearly smarter than me and provide great questions. I’ve spent a good amount of the day (sadly, or perhaps engagingly) thinking about Milk’s post. I’m generally a fan of not really limiting any discourse, and often I’m fine with disregarding authorial intent. The hang-up for me was trying to fit glitches into the usual way I approach texts. To me it was something like evaluating a film on a DVD whose entire middle section was erased because of a manufacturing defect. I’m sure we could examine the film as-is in that case, but something strikes me wrong about that.
I think I’m differentiating a text saying something unintentionally and a text having an unintentional glitch as two different things. I could be completely wrong here, but that’s where my hang-up has been with the post.
Great points, you’re going to keep me thinking on this topic.
December 8th, 2011 at 7:07 pm
Mr. Powered,
First off, I apologize for throwing a wall of continental phil. jargon your way (it’s that time of the school year I suppose…) but I think that is an important problem to be faced. What is an unintentional “feature” of the work and what is a defective aspect- e.g. your cassette’s tape falling out of the casing.
What I find interesting and what would be fascinating to investigate would be how does a person’s consciousness go about making these connections and forming a cohesive text. In the same vein I suppose as we don’t see colour, shape, weight, etc as separate phenomena of a chair, we just see the cohesive ‘chair’.
The question would be then, how do we synthesis all the clearly distinct parts of a video game that are clearly not ‘the game’ into one object ‘the game’? Because in the same way the failure of a transmission in a car does not stop it from being a car, there must be a way to sort something similar out with a video game- or any art for that matter.
December 8th, 2011 at 7:22 pm
Hey, no problem! Beware the wall of jargon! Sometimes its necessary though. I wasn’t being sarcastic when I said you were smarter than me, I genuinely enjoyed your comments. You pose a shit load of great questions, and I especially love the chair analogy.
Do I have any definitive answers? Naw, but I’m definitely intrigued.